


Lords of the Sea

by catfishCaper



Series: As Good As It Gets [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Downton Abbey (Freeform), F/F, Gen, Post-Dragon Age II, title from galavant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 13:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10219760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catfishCaper/pseuds/catfishCaper
Summary: Hawke and Isabela are bored without a ship to sail, and the news from Ferelden is as ridiculous as always.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song of the same name from Galavant
> 
> "We're the lords of the sea,  
> except we aren't at sea.  
> We're the lords of the sea,  
> Just not of the actual sea."
> 
> written for Tara, who got me into these games in the first place

The TV in their crappy motel room was turned on to a press conference the king of Ferelden was holding. Hawke, sitting on the floor in front of it, turned it up, half out of national pride, half because most of what came out of the guy's mouth was absolutely hilarious.

“For my latest decree, I, uh, decree, I guess, that all dogs are sovereign citizens of Ferelden,” he announced, looking straight at one random reporter, because he clearly still hadn't managed the art of talking to crowds.

Isabela, hanging upside down off the bed, squinted at the screen. “What?”

“When you say all dogs,” one reporter began, “do you mean just Fereldan dogs? And is there a segregation by, say, breed, because mabari are obviously very intelligent, but some others--”

“All dogs,” King Alistair said firmly.

“Even...dogs in other countries, your majesty?”

The king looked vaguely confused, and struggled to keep professionalism as he answered, “I don't understand what's so difficult about the phrase 'all dogs.’”

Isabela groaned and turned off the TV. “I'm not going to watch what's probably going to be those same questions over and over for the next fifteen minutes,” she told Hawke.

“Fair,” Hawke replied.

This motel was one of many they'd stopped at after leaving (leaving, NOT fleeing, because fleeing implied they weren't welcome, and that they couldn't come back whenever they wanted, both of which were obviously untrue) Kirkwall, and while sneaking around the Free Marches had been fun in the beginning, the monotony of it all was driving Hawke and Isabela insane. They'd already played FMK about their friends about six hundred times and come up with justifications for every choice in every combination and what was there to do after that? Nothing, was Isabela’s thought, except put their ideas into practice.

(“We're not going to kill Anders, Bela. At least not while he's still making us hangover potions.”

“Ugh, fine.”)

So here they were, so bored that not even the king of Ferelden’s ridiculous ideas about governing a country could faze them.

“That guy ever text you back about his boat?” Hawke asked, leaning back against the bed so her head was next to Isabela's.

Isabela scowled. “No. Back to square one, then!”

“We could…” But Hawke couldn't think of anything. “Shit.”

“Hmm.”

Hawke turned the TV back on.

“--does this mean human citizens can no longer own dogs, because they too will be citizens?”

“Will dogs get more or less rights than say, elves, or dwarves? Or mages?”

“Does this mean dogs will be able to vote in local elections? How will that work?”

“Okay! Press conference over,” said the king's press secretary, a man called Nathaniel Howe who had formerly been a soldier under the Queen's command. He ushered King Alistair, who was still trying to yell out things like “if all dogs go to heaven why can't they own themselves?”, back into the castle.

“Your country is a shitshow,” Isabela said dryly.

“Guess Champion of Kirkwoof is a Fereldan citizen now. What a good boy.” The dog's original name was Hawke, because Hawke (the original) had never been good at names, but he had accepted the change with all the grace a mabari could muster.

(The combination of a lack of naming creativity and her childhood obsession with showing ownership over everything had led to her parents being Mom and Dad Hawke, Carver and Bethany being Little Brother and Sister Hawke, and various inanimate objects being things like Apple Tree Hawke, or Barn Hawke. Marian herself was, obviously, just Hawke.)

Champion, hearing his name, excitedly bounded over from the other side of the room and started licking his owner’s face enthusiastically. “Yes. Good boy. Down.” Champion sat back obediently.

“He looks like he wants a walk.”

“You're upside down, how can you tell?”

“Well, men and dogs--”

“Right, okay. I'll take him out. Back soon.” Hawke got up, leashed Champion, and headed out.

They couldn’t stray too far from the motel, in case they were recognized, but Champion made the most of it, spraying his scent on every car in the parking lot, and on most of the doors, too, for good measure. Hawke felt badly that he couldn’t spend more time outside, but mabari were pretty unusual out in the country, and all it would take was one curious idiot to have the templars on them to arrest them for killing Meredith--or worse, that Chantry thing Sister Nightingale was rumored to be running. They’d _never_ be able to get out of it.

Hawke and Champion couldn’t have been gone more than twenty minutes. Half an hour, maybe. But of course, by the time they went back to the room, Isabela was gone.

 _Gone to see a man about a boat!_ her note said. _Back in a few days ;P_

Hawke sighed. “Not surprised. Well, boy, let’s see if there’s anything better on TV, then.”

She wasn’t surprised Isabela had left like that, leaving just a note. She _would_ be surprised if she didn’t come back. Still, this was probably something they should talk about. Both of them hated talking about their feelings. “There’s only one time when you should ask someone how they feel about something,” Isabela said, “and that’s when you’re trying to make sure you’re not about to accidentally commit a felony through lack of communication. Assuming makes an ass out of you and me, after all. Besides, anything less than enthusiastic consent is no fun, anyway.”

Hawke just hoped this new boat wouldn’t fall through like the last dozen. It was like people didn’t want to sell their things to a known pirate. People were stupid.

After three days of catching up on Vael Abbey and Skyping Varric and Bethany about it for over two hours--Varric was doing something in Orlais, last Hawke had heard, and Bethany was following Anders around to random little villages to learn healing but to mostly make sure he didn’t commit any more acts of terrorism--Isabela returned.

“Get your boat?” Hawke asked.

Isabela closed the door behind her, and sighed. Hawke’s heart sank. Not another disappointment.

“I did!”

“You--were you trying to trick me just now?” Hawke jumped off the bed and hugged Isabela.

“The look on your face was hysterical. God, and I thought _I_ hated being cooped up like this the most. I guess I was never alone for it.”

“It’s not so bad. You’ve missed quite an interesting news cycle.”

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Your king and the dogs?”

Hawke summed up the last few days of politics for Isabela.

(“This just in,” the FNN anchor said while Hawke did some stretches in front of the television, two days previous, “Prime Minister Anora Mac Tir has released a statement regarding the king’s decree yesterday granting all dogs citizenship. The statement reads: As of this time, our offices have received no documentation requesting such a decree. We would like to remind King Theirin that Ferelden is a constitutional monarchy, and as such he cannot just say things and have them magically become law.”

Then, the next day, just as Hawke’s pizza was arriving, an emergency press conference by the extremely elusive queen of Ferelden, an elf woman named Kallian, was held. “So, I bet Alistair he wouldn’t actually say the dog decree thing, and he said he totally would, and so I said, there’s no way you’ll make it through a full press conference about that with a straight face. So he said, okay but if I do, you have to take a week off work. It was a deal, so, I guess this is just me saying, no, dogs aren’t citizens, although I think they should be, and I guess starting tomorrow I’m taking a week off work. Alistair is very excited--he has a whole cheese tasting thing planned, and some other stuff. Anyway. Press conference over.” Later, the queen tweeted, “people have been asking what i was going to get if i won: it was the password to the official king of ferelden twitter account,” the idea of which quickly became a meme.)

“So how did you get the ship?”

“Well, while you were out, that guy texted me saying his last buyer fell through, so I should come look at it. It’s not the best I’ve ever seen, but it sails, and I’ve already started putting out feelers for a crew. I probably should have stayed to tell you where I was going, but I was just too excited.” She still looked more excited than sorry, but that was the closest to an apology Hawke was probably going to get, so she was forgiven.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go see it. I can check us out.”

It was a two hour drive to the coast, but it took them about an hour and ten minutes. Isabela’s new ship was docked at a small port, and she actually made Hawke close her eyes when they got there to preserve the surprise.

“Tada! Open them.” Hawke opened her eyes, and looked up at the ship.

It wasn’t as big as the one she’d taken with her mother, Carver, and Bethany when they were fleeing the Blight, and it was ugly as sin, but it was Isabela’s, so she smiled. “It’s--”

What the hell was that written on the side?

“ _Marian?_ Isabela!”

Isabela laughed so hard she doubled over. “God! I didn’t even know it was called that until I arrived, but isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“You cannot have a ship named after me!”

“Who says it’s named after you? I think it’s named after the previous owner’s grandmother--ow! Okay, we’ll repaint it, it’ll be the _Bethany--_ OW! Hawke! Stop smacking my shoulder.”

“I am very happy for you,” Hawke said, through gritted teeth, “even if this is a stupid coincidence.”

“I would prefer to call it fate, but sure, that works too.”

“Well, come on then. Let’s go christen your captain’s quarters.”

And aboard the _~~Marian Bethany~~ Siren’s Call 2_ , the two of them lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at lydiawhinesaboutfanfiction.tumblr.com (fanfic blog, mostly stupid shitposts) or lydiacatfish.tumblr.com (main blog, mostly pictures of animals)


End file.
